Saving, Tossing, Recycling, Donating: Is This an Aging Thing?
Sorting into piles. Saving, tossing, recycling, donating. No, we’re not doing a clean-out of a relative’s belongings after their passing. We’re slowly sifting through our own stuff. Old enough to be thinking about such matters, we decided it prudent to pare down some of the accumulation ourselves, so that when “that” time inevitably arrives, our kids aren’t faced with a mountainous task. We’re not shedding our furniture or home décor, artwork or travel mementos. Belongings which bring us joy or that we use on a regular basis will remain. No, it’s the “stuff” we’ve hung onto for years and years that we never look at, nor no longer need. Back…
Time And Our Spirit Number
The oldest of my three children turned 40 years old today. When I wasn’t looking, time played a trick on me. In a mere blink of the eye, the sweet baby I once held in my arms now has three children of her own. Time passed! How did that happen? It is a known fact: If we are alive, we grow older. Some of us even grow wiser, but that’s not a given. Our outer shell will continue to manifest physical changes, marked by that yearly given number. In reaching the beginning of her fifth decade, my daughter shared with me a bit of her growing wisdom. She now recognizes…
Excerpt from Somebody Stole My Iron
The Curious Occurrence of the Comet Cleanser Mom’s shoes had developed a pervasive stench. There was no other way to describe it. In hindsight, I realize it may have been related to the fact that she continuously wore the same pair of leg-support knee-highs. I was somehow deluded into thinking she washed them occasionally. Now I realize she probably did not. I could have been more proactive about washing them myself, but she always wore them, and did not want an additional pair as she felt the cost was too expensive. It would have been an excellent idea if I had bought her a second pair anyway, and helped her…
Reticence
An unexplained inner drive compelled me to document a multi-year sojourn that I took with my parents. It was the last journey we took together…a journey down the rabbit hole of dementia. Within months of each other, Dad received a diagnosis of Parkinson’s-related dementia and shortly thereafter, Mom, with Alzheimer’s disease. During the first year, I began a diary to record our odyssey. Journaling every evening helped me unwind and release some of the turbulent emotions involved with the day-to-day challenges we faced. This journal became my confidante to whom I could “say” anything without fear of reprisal and it asked for nothing in return. It simply listened.
Finding My Tribe
Aren’t you curious to know more? Why do you find this boring? If you could peer into my brain, you might observe these questions bouncing around. I remember being admonished as a child for acting “too inquisitive” or alternately, “too sensitive.” As an adult I’m sometimes told that, in conversations, I either give too many details or ask for too many details, depending on whether I’m telling the story or listening to one. Or worse, I confess to interrupting someone else’s story (my husband) to add more details when I don’t feel he’s imparting enough information. Okay, so I like details! Watching movies, it’s not uncommon for me to be…
Turn Around, Red Robin
Last week I was reminded that answers or solutions aren’t necessarily what or even where they initially appear… I opened the pedestrian door from our garage onto our patio to sounds of frantic fluttering and flapping, coming from our next-door neighbor’s yard. My first thought was “Oh, no, an injured bird.” As I walked closer to the fence dividing our yards, that’s indeed what it appeared. I saw a robin hopping about and frantically flapping his wings. However, when I looked more closely, I realized that wasn’t it at all. The robin was “imprisoned” inside a loop of chicken wire mesh. In an attempt to keep his dog away from…
Aged Appreciation
Appreciation: thankful recognition or gratitude Although Mom passed away 8 years ago from complications of Alzheimer’s disease, a belated appreciation of her has slowly blossomed, especially in the past couple of years. At random moments, I’ve experienced an unmistakable yearning to hug her tenderly and voice my gratitude one more time. In earlier years, I sometimes seemed to lack the ability to show my appreciation in a way that she could relate. She was born in a time of little. As a child, farm work was the only extra-curricular activity she experienced outside of school. On the other hand, while I was growing up as the only child still at…
Imagine
According to Albert Einstein, “Imagination … is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”[1] It was late afternoon when my doorbell rang. I peeked carefully out the window and there stood a clean-cut young man. I thought, “Uh oh, a magazine salesman,” but something moved me to open the front door anyway. “Hi, My name is Mikhail.” He turned slightly to point behind him at the sidewalk steps leading up onto the walkway to our front porch. “I’ve long admired those steps and I’m wondering if it would be all right to stand on them next Saturday when I propose to my girlfriend?” “Whaat?” That wasn’t…
An Encore For Love
This post must begin with a confession…for a good part of my life I believed “older” people lived on a different emotional planet, an asexual planet devoid of romance, free from desire. It didn’t seem feasible to me that someone in midst of their golden years could actually experience all those tingly feelings that come from the infatuation of a new love. However, I also never deduced exactly when it was that this human characteristic was lost, but certainly by the 8th or 9th decades! Surely the feelings experienced when pheromones flooded our bloodstream were limited to those of us under a certain age. Surely. I am elated to report,…
Transformative Touch
Did you know that as we grow older, our sense of touch diminishes? Sure, I knew that eyesight and hearing often decline, along with our sense of smell and taste, but it was news to me that our sense of touch declines as well. According to a recent *article in AARP, by the time we’re 80, we’ve only a quarter of the touch receptors we had at 20. Because it’s so gradual, many of us may not even notice this loss. While our sense of touch may lessen, our need for touch certainly doesn’t! Think of what happens to infants that are left untouched–they often do not survive. All human…
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